Here the Colonel indicated Betty, who spoke quickly and with pride:
“Yes, I am a soldier’s daughter and proud of it.”
“The soldier should be proud of it,” promptly answered Fortescue, with a smile. Betty was no Quaker maiden, but came of fighting stock.
“My errand,” continued Fortescue, turning to the Colonel, “is from my superior officer, Major Studly, who is engaged in making some military surveys in this neighborhood. We hope to go in camp by March. I have found an excellent place for our encampment, with running water for the animals, and a spring, about five miles from here, in the rolling country. I understand that the land is yours, and Major Studly asks your permission to occupy it for a month or six weeks, perhaps. Of course—er—er—compensation will be made for its use by the Government.”
“Compensation be hanged!” replied the Colonel blandly. “It gives me pleasure to oblige a brother officer, although the United States Government may go to the devil!”
Fortescue smiled at this. From the great fortress forty miles away, he had made various incursions into the country, and had happened upon many gallant old irreconcilables, like Colonel Beverley, who felt it their duty to hurl defiance upon the United States Government, although they were really among its best citizens.
“I thank you very much,” said Fortescue, in a manner as courtly as the Colonel’s, “not only for myself, but for Major Studly. We will do as little damage as possible. No doubt we shall be able to buy the wood we need for our encampment.”
“Not from me, sir,” promptly replied the Colonel. “You are welcome to all the wood you need, and if it is too much trouble to cut it down, burn up the fence-rails, sir.”
Colonel Beverley liked to act the grand seigneur, but, owing to unfortunate circumstances, he was able to be grand only in small matters, like fence-rails.